


Selfish

by kitgkat21



Category: BURN THE WITCH (Manga), Bleach
Genre: Blushing, F/M, Misunderstanding, Taboo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-10
Updated: 2020-03-10
Packaged: 2021-03-01 02:20:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23087668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kitgkat21/pseuds/kitgkat21
Summary: Spangle misinterprets a situation...but maybe she’s always longed for it.
Relationships: Kurosaki Ichigo/Ninii Spangle
Comments: 1
Kudos: 14





	Selfish

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first Bleach Story and Burn The Witch Story! So this story kinda takes place in London. And Ichigo’s in London for a course in English Literature. And in this story he’s already married and has Kazui. Enjoy! ^^

Six-thirty in the evening, and the desk-lamp is flickering slightly. Papers rustle, sheets whisper, and the bed-head is sharp against her lower back.

He leans in towards her languidly; she flinches backwards and hisses, “Don't.”

Ichigo's eyes, as he pauses, mid-motion, and stares at her, tell her she's badly misinterpreted his movement and has made an utter fool of herself.

“Don't what?” he asks, his arm and his shoulder still half across her, and he's grown still, there, like that, one hand having reached its destination on his desk beyond her, but his body not moving. They're seated side by side on his bed, and he's been doing his midterm paper, and she's been reading shōjo manga to perfect her japanese; now he tilts his head a little. His eyes are still so close to hers that she can see the shades of gold and questioning which are normally hidden away amongst the brown.

“Don't...” she repeats, but cannot complete the sentence.

What can she say? Don't kiss me, which was the phrase her mind had first latched upon, albeit at a marked tangent compared to the reaction of her body; the idea her mind had first latched upon when she'd thought... when she thought he was going to...

He's a married man with a kid, she tells herself, but his eyes are widening with a sudden understanding, and she can feel her own face heating in response. There's something taboo about this, something in the stretch of his eyes, in the way they increase and fix in upon her intently. There's something in the way that they make her whole world alter, tip a little sideways, out of kilter, and his whole body feels somehow closer than it did a moment earlier.

Ichigo opens his mouth, closes it, almost smiles but doesn't, half-frowns, furrow-browed, and finishes his original motion to retrieve the book he'd reached for in the first place. His eyes are still gazing in her direction as his fingers close blindly around the spine of the text. He pulls his hand slowly back towards himself, only the slight unsteadiness of his fingers revealing that he might be feeling anything less than one-hundred-and-ten percent sure about what he's doing, and his sleeve brushes against the bare skin of her arm.

She shivers, and hates herself for it.

Not so long, she hasn't been here so very long as all that, and yet this – this – is this what it's like, this tug of humanity making her stomach do strange things? This tingle of fear, and sweet dart of anticipation, all bound up in one bright knot of feelings? The terror at the thought of his (unfamiliar) mouth descending on hers – the thrill at the thought of his (warm) mouth capturing her up...

Not very long at all, and she's already acting as if she were as hormonal as her weredragon companion,Virgo.

Which, she supposes, if she considers the matter rationally, is exactly what she is.

Ichigo's hands are both back in his own space, and his face is turned towards the english literature in the book he has opened upon his knees, but his eyes are glancing sideways, towards her, at regular intervals. It doesn't matter how much she tells herself that he's a married man with a child; the expression in those eyes of his tells her that his subconscious knows better than that, even if he hasn't realised it himself yet.

And what would it hurt? Her own subconscious selfishly asks.

Ah, but the answers to that are many.

Ichigo turns a page, mumbles something about Shakespeare, thumbs the text absently, and then asks, “Are you okay, Spangle?”

She nods.

She can't stay here forever, she knows that, and surely she doesn't really want to.

And even if she could, even if she did, she can't pretend forever, can't hide forever, can't—

—can't sit here beside him, can't sit here with the warmth of his body, real, and the touch of his hands, accidental, can't...

“I'm fine,” she assures him.

So long as you don't ever kiss me.


End file.
